


The Fall

by Revolutionary_Queen



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Darcy Lewis's Taser, F/M, Fluff, Frigga Feels (Marvel), HammerShock, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Protective Thor (Marvel), Thor (Marvel) is Not Stupid, Thor's Hammer - Freeform, Thundershock, and he also needs a therapist, retelling of the first thor, this made me nostalgic for the early marvel days, we joke about thor's hammer here, what is their ship even called
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:48:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26860909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Revolutionary_Queen/pseuds/Revolutionary_Queen
Summary: When Thor falls in love, he does not fall gently.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Thor
Comments: 63
Kudos: 489
Collections: Darcy Lewis Bingo





	The Fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UnlimitedHappyLife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnlimitedHappyLife/gifts).



> This is a retelling of the first Thor.
> 
> This is also a gift for my wonderful friend's birthday, UnlimitedHappyLife. Look at that, you finally got me to write you some damn Thundershock lmao. But really, I am so grateful for you and hope you have the most amazing day!
> 
> Also, this is part of the Darcy Lewis Bingo--filling Y4: Darcy/Thor

The week Thor turns one hundred years old, there are three days of celebration. 

He is still young, an adolescent by Asgardian standards, but he is growing stronger by the day. The crown prince trains hard, studies hard, and tries to prepare as much as he can to one day rule (even though his father tells him that no matter how hard he tries, he cannot learn wisdom— _that_ , Odin says, can only be earned.). 

On the night of his birthday, the city is aglow with fireworks and dancing and laughter; hearts fill with hope in their future King. And every time a dish shatters, there is an eruption of happy cries for good health and happiness to their royals. 

There are also more gifts than he has use for. The pile grows so high, the well-wishers so many, Thor has a difficult time seeing much beyond it all and finally orders for them to be moved to his chambers. His friends, the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, voice their rambunctious disappointment for not getting to inspect firsthand what he receives but Thor laughs them off. For the most part, he is content just to watch the revelry. 

Part of that revelry is his little brother.

Loki, for all of his griping about having to dress nicely, spends a happy night filling all of the nobles goblets with frogs and then running for his life when father gets wind of it. 

It makes Thor laugh and his father turn red in the face. Living up to his name, the young God of Mischief leaves the party reeling from his antics and Odin in an absolute tizzy. 

It is only the queen who can calm Odin and she does so by calling for a dance. 

Thor’s mother, Queen Frigga is regal in every sense of the word; she is sunlight incarnate, golden and warm and kind. And for all that Odin rules Asgard with an iron fist, Frigga only has to clap her hands twice for what feels like the entire city to rise to attention and rush to the dance floor. Odin included. 

More than one lingering, hopeful glance is tossed Thor’s way as the music begins. He smiles kindly at all but does not move from his seat. Instead, Thor watches his parents clasp hands and smile at one another. There is a tenderness in Odin’s eyes as he gazes at Frigga, even after all of these years, and the sight of it stirs something unnamable in Thor’s chest. 

As his mother and father sway under the moonlight, the crown prince of Asgard quietly slips away and spends the rest of the evening in his mother’s private chambers. 

It’s a place he often goes when he needs to think—a place of refuge from a world that expects _so much_ out of him. A place where Thor can put away the crown and rest.

It is less than an hour later when the door cracks open and soft footfalls meet his ears.

“Why are you hiding in here?” Frigga asks, a soft smile on her lips. “That party out there is for you.”

Thor is on the ground before the fireplace, his back against a luxurious chair. One leg is straight while the other is bent. He turns his head and lifts his brows. “I grew tired.”

“And yet you did not go to bed,” Frigga comments and Thor doesn’t elaborate, turning back to stare into the fire.

In truth, he doesn’t know what to say, how to explain the melancholy that came over him tonight. But it swells in his chest like a great wave and Thor has never been a good swimmer. 

“Scoot over.”

Thor lifts his head and blinks but Frigga shoos him with her hands. He shifts and makes room for her, the Queen of this entire realm, to plop down on the cold floor next to him. He wonders what the court would do if they knew that their royalty chose the hard ground over silk cushions. His father’s advisors would keel over and die. 

Maybe Thor should tell them after all.

“Come here, you,” Frigga’s says playfully as she wraps an arm around Thor’s broadening shoulders. He is finally taller than her and hasn’t let her forget that for the last month. But as she tucks him into her side, Thor suddenly feels like he is but a babe once more. Heaving a great sigh, Thor turns and gives into his mother’s insistent tugging until he rests his head on her shoulder. 

“You may be one hundred years old, but you are still my child,” deceptively strong arms slip around him and Thor closes his eyes against his will when his mother slides gentle fingers through his hair. The heat from the fire warms them both and her voice is a soothing balm. “Now, tell me, what has got my firstborn so upset?”

Thor is quiet for a long time and Frigga doesn’t push him to answer. She lets him think and gather his thoughts and be sure of them. 

Which is why there are some things that he will only ever be able to tell his mother and no other. This is one of them.

“Do you,” Thor starts and then stops, his mouth clicking shut. He tries again. “Do you think it is possible to miss someone you have never met?”

“What do you mean?”

“I ache,” Thor admits at last, the words very quiet. He swallows wetly. “I want a love like the kind you and father have, and I fear I will never find it.”

The fire crackles and snaps and Frigga never stops running her fingers through his hair. Thor almost drifts off completely when she whispers—

“One day, my son, love will hit you so hard it will knock you right off your feet.”

* * *

When he falls, he does not fall gently.

It is sudden and rushing and shifts worlds. For the longest time, he cannot breathe. Darkness surrounds him, presses down on him, and his stomach plunges. And then he bursts through a canopy of brilliant stars and colossal cloud on a path only his father understands and only Heimdall can see. It is almost beautiful.

Up until the moment when the ground rushes up to meet him.

Thor’s chest heaves and he makes a terrible noise seconds before he slams into the New Mexico desert where it splinters like fine china under his body.

* * *

“I think that was legally your fault!”

The words float into his ears, but he doesn’t understand them, doesn’t know who is speaking or why they are yelling. There is dust in his nose, coating his skin in a fine layer. It surrounds him like a fog and he chokes on it, wants to sneeze, but can’t because he is fairly certain something important deep inside of him has fractured.

Only later would he realize it is his heart.

“Get the first aid kit!” Delicate hands rest on his arm and Thor tries to lift his head. A blinding light shines directly in his eyes and he cannot see through it. Confusion rolls through him when a voice commands, “Do me a favor and don’t be dead. _Please_.”

Frowning at the mere suggestion that something so minor could kill him, the God of Thunder, the future King of Asgard.

_But you’re not King yet._

His father’s voice echoes in his head and a bitter thorn twists itself deeper into Thor’s wounded heart. He feels the poison of it spread like fire in his veins. Pushing up off the ground, Thor staggers and stumbles gracelessly. Two females and a male skitter away from him, their forms barely visible in the darkness and the cloud of dust, but Thor is not threatened by them.

One glance tells him that they are more wary of him—that _he_ is the biggest threat here. 

And they are right to assume so.

“Hammer?” Thor impatiently roars out. Pulling on Mjolnir has become second nature, the weapon an extension of his arm more than anything else. But pulling on it now is like tugging on a loose string that never tightens.

It doesn’t answer his call and that floods him with panic.

“Hammer?!” Thor tries again and from the side, one of the three bumbling beings mutters something snide that he doesn’t understand.

There are more important things to deal with than these three.

Tilting his head back to the sky, his lips twist in an ugly manner as he bellows, “Father? Heimdall? I know you can hear me—open the BiFrost.”

Above, the deepest of blues remains wholly unmoved. There is no shimmer of rainbow-colored light, no promise of hope. 

Nothing.

And it hits Thor then, that for the first time in his long life, he is truly alone.

_Banished._

“Where did he come from?”

His chest feels blown open like shutters in a violent storm and he turns to the beings behind him in a rage.

“ _You!_ ” He points at the smallest female. The male, old enough to be her father, hovers over her shoulder, ready to rip her away from danger. “What realm is this? Alfheim? Nornheim?”

“New Mexico,” supplies the second female and Thor has never heard of such a place. He turns to her, a sneer on his lips, and he scoffs when he sees she has steadily pointed a small weapon at him.

Stepping towards her, his heart ripping itself apart inside of him, he bares his teeth, “You dare threaten _me_ , Thor, with so puny a weapo—”

She shoots him and he falls harder than he has ever fallen in his long life.

* * *

Midgard is a strange planet, Thor thinks. The rules make no sense to him and he finds it more frustrating than anything else.

After all, it is _quite_ the compliment on Asgard to throw a plate or a goblet once you are finished consuming its contents. It is one of the highest compliments he knows how to give and one he does not often do at home, but here, he wanted to be a kind guest and show the depth of his appreciation to his hosts.

Instead, his attempt is seen as a blunder and he watches as his actions are explained away as though he were nothing but a child.

Thor does not bring it up again, does not wish to see the embarrassed blush on Jane’s face or the uncomfortable frown on Erik’s. 

Out of the three of them, Darcy is the only one who seemed to enjoy his attempts. She documents his journey every step of the way and Thor is happy to oblige for her ‘photographs’. He does wonder, in part, if she is something like a bard in this realm. Bards, though often low in status, are some of Thor’s favorite beings.

They are always good humored with a song at hand and a tale to tell. And if Darcy does in fact wish to tell his story, then Thor would be honored to let her do so. 

“Hey, so I had an idea,” Darcy announces later than day after they return to their base. 

Jane doesn’t look up from her work but that doesn’t seem to bother Darcy because she is staring squarely at Thor. Intrigued, he tilts his head in silent question. 

The woman’s eyes shine with nothing short of mischief and Thor is all at once so achingly homesick for another raven-haired being full of tricks and playfulness that he doesn’t hear the words that come out of her mouth next. It is as though the world is ripped out from under his feet and he is balancing on nothing but an unsteady rope with no net to catch him when he falls.

And he will fall, is about to tip over the edge, when someone snaps their fingers in front of his face.

Blinking rapidly, Thor frowns at Darcy and she smirks. “Lost you there for a moment, dude.”

“I am sorry,” Thor rasps, unable to say anything more. 

“No worries,” she tells him breezily with a careless flap of her hand. And then Darcy flicks her eyes over him swiftly and nods her head towards the door with a promising grin. “How about you follow me and we can get some fresh air?”

With a glance at Jane who has yet to come up for air from her calculations, Thor rises and follows Darcy out the door. She leads him around the back of the building where a large pile of dishes sit on the thirsty, dusty ground. 

“What is this?” 

Darcy squats to pick through some of it. “Just some junk I found at a local garage sale. It was already chipped, and I probably got ripped off buying it, but hey, who cares.” She chooses two off-white plates and hands one to him as she straightens up. “This’ll be fun.”

Thor takes the plate without question (one of the first things he learned on Midgard was not to question Darcy). “Are we preparing for a feast?” 

“Nope,” the woman gives him a gap-toothed smile, ruby lips a stark contrast to her pale skin. “We’re gonna _smash_ shit.”

“Pardon me?” 

Giddy, Darcy almost hops from foot to foot. 

“You know, like you did earlier in the diner, but in a bit of a more controlled environment.”

“I…” Thor pauses, confused, and his brows pull together as he thinks back to this morning and the shock from the humans. He wonders if this is a joke meant to humiliate him. His voice becomes very quiet as he finally explains, “I was trying to pay you all a compliment and it did not go well. I apologize for any shame I may have caused. It was not my intention. You have been nothing but kind to me.”

At some point during his apology, Darcy’s smile falls from her face like snow sliding off the side of a mountain. Lowering her plate, she takes a step towards him and touches his arm.

It is nothing more than a brush of her fingers against his skin, but that touch feels magnified, as if the entirety of Thor’s body lives in that infinitely small space. 

He realizes, then, that this is the first time he has been touched in a kind manner since arriving on Midgard. It sears into his mind and he is suddenly hyper-aware of the way the wind whips unruly strands of midnight hair across Darcy’s forehead, the fullness of her lips, the way the sunbeams light her crystal eyes up like pyres burning behind thick blue icy walls.

“Hey Thor, it’s okay,” Darcy’s voice is a murmur and he can’t recall a time when he’s heard her use a tone like this. “We come from different cultures. I bet it’s been a hell of a shock for you to try to adjust to ours. Maybe we owe you the apology for not helping or explaining things better.”

For the longest time, he just stares at her, this human woman.

“Midgard is very different,” Thor finally manages.

Darcy’s answering smile is brilliant and encouraging. “Maybe you could tell me about your home sometime?”

He promises no such thing, as it feels too tender, too fresh of a wound to prod. And Darcy reads him like an open book.

“No rush though, take your time, and if it’s never time, that’s okay, too,” and then her voice brightens. “But hey, that’s why I bought these. Sometimes people hold in a lot of anger or rage and since we want to avoid going on, you know, like a murder spree, the best way to get some of that emotion out is to destroy shit.”

She motions grandly to the stacks of fragile dishes. Thor looks at her as though she has taken leave of her mind.

“You want me to…?”

“Uh-huh,” Darcy nods and then lifts the plate she has been holding. “Here, I’ll start.” She steps up towards the building and squints, as though taking aim. Before throwing the plate, Darcy slides a look at him and secretly grins. “Here goes my best Captain America impression.”

She flings the plate.

It flies through the air and falls to the ground, missing the building entirely before shattering in a pathetically small manner. 

Thor lifts a brow at her and Darcy groans. “Don’t look at me like that, I never did sports. I just did the guys who did sports.”

“Perhaps I should give you a lesson,” Thor taunts and Darcy’s teeth gleam in a wicked smile.

“About how to do sports or do guys?” 

The god doesn’t entirely understand her vernacular, but he can pick up enough context clues to get it. Choosing not to answer and feeling more like himself than he has in many moons, Thor winks at her and flips the plate in the air before catching it with ease. Delighted, Darcy’s eyes sparkle in a manner Thor is utterly unprepared for.

Her gaze trails his every move through hooded lids, and it is like a burn on his skin for all that it stirs him. A muscle in Thor’s jaw works.

“Go ahead.” She challenges and her voice sounds to the god like sex, heavy and full of honey.

The plate is obliterated against the side of the building before he even realizes it left his hand. In truth, it hadn’t taken much force but there is some deep male pride he feels in the way that it explodes like a ceramic firework.

Or perhaps that pride comes more from the way Darcy’s plump lips fall open. His mind instantly wonders what those lips would look like wrapped around him.

It is with a fierce viciousness that he shoves that thought away before she can catch it on his face. Because for all that Darcy laughs and teases and plays the fool, he knows that she is anything but.

“Hot _damn_ ,” she says in an exhale and then clumsily scrambles for something beside the stack of plates. Lifting it, she hands a weapon to him. It has a long wooden handle and a metal head, one end rounded while the other ran in two curved spikes. “Try this next.”

“And this is?” Thor asks carefully. It is… a very odd looking weapon. 

Darcy waggles it. “A _hammer_. It’s your favorite, remember?”

Thor gives her a very flat look.

“This is not a hammer.”

“It is here on earth,” she scoffs and shakes it at him again. “Why don’t you give it a try?”

He does and when the metal head cracks after his fourth blow, he informs Darcy’s shocked face that Midgard would do well to forge more sturdy weaponry.

* * *

“Hey, are you okay?”

The question comes out of nowhere. Thor is standing on the steps of Jane’s lab, gazing up at the night sky, searching. He has been on Midgard for over a week now and though he is forever in the debt of the kindness of humans, every night Thor aches for home.

Tonight is no different.

It is one thing to be stripped of his crown, his power, his immortality. It is another thing entirely to be stripped of his home, his friends, his family, his people.

He feels hollowed out, a shell of what he once was, and miserable.

“Thor?” Darcy calls, her voice oddly cautious.

He turns and looks down at her. She is short, like Jane is short, but where Jane is delicate—built like a bird, flawless and beautiful—Darcy is temptation itself. 

She is like nothing he has ever seen and everything he wants to see all at once. 

Thor isn’t sure why she hides such a desirable form under her layers upon layers of clothing, or why she crosses her arms over her stomach and constantly tugs at the hem of her shirt to cover the pleasing curve of her backside, but he thinks he might kill whoever made her to feel such shame.

He watches as she rolls her bottom lip between her teeth and the way her dark brows meet as she stares off into the distance. The desert before them is empty, cavernous in a way that is wild and haunting under the full moon but all Thor can think is that he would like to pull that lip between his own teeth and taste it for himself.

“Can I ask you a question?” She says suddenly, not looking at him as she speaks.

“Anything.” 

Darcy nods.

“Okay. I know you’ve talked about coming from another ‘realm’ and for the most part Jane and Erik have humored you… but… I just. Fuck it, I’m just going to say it: you’re not just some rando, crazy, homeless guy, are you?”

There is a long moment of silence.

When Thor speaks next, his voice is very low. “What do you think I am?”

“I think…” Darcy pauses and drags her eyes back to his. They are luminous under the moonbeams and he is all at once trapped in their glow. She is a stunning female. “I think you’re a god and I think you’re trapped here.”

Thor does not answer, he merely stares down at Darcy, enraptured. She tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’ve been reading a book we got out of the library. It talks about Asgard and a rainbow bridge,” she rushes out and then adds, almost shyly. “And you.”

“And…” Thor starts and stops, clearing his throat. “Would you fear me if I were?” 

“No,” Darcy answers right away and there is something very honest in her voice. “You might freak me out sometimes, but it’s not fear. I find it kinda cool.” She pauses and grins then, snickering to herself more than anything. “Besides, not everyone can say that they knocked a god off their feet, can they? Do you think I could put that on my resume?”

And all at once, Thor is just barely one hundred years old and back in his mother’s study before a warm fire and he cannot breathe.

* * *

Loki betrays him, betrays them all, and his wounded rage spreads through the universe like a great sickness, chasing Thor to Midgard. The town burns and when Darcy should run, she chooses instead to rescue creatures that cannot save themselves.

Thor wants to throttle her.

It is hard to throttle someone whose arms are full of fluffy animals though. Especially when he also has the Destroyer to deal with. 

With the help of Sif and the Warriors Three, Thor fights to protect this small town of humans. It is no easy thing without his powers, but he manages well enough. And the entire time he fights, Darcy shouts and screams and yells advice.

It does not help.

Eventually when she starts calling out threatening taunts to the Destroyer itself, causing it to turn and stare at her, Jane, thankfully, covers her mouth and forcefully drags her away. If he were not trying to focus solely on bringing the fullness of the Destroyer’s attention on him and away from the innocent humans, Thor might have told her she had gone mad.

He never gets the chance to.

Loki ravages the town but not just the town, he is aiming for every spot that might hurt Thor the most. It terrifies Thor, right to the bone, what his brother is capable of doing. Loki sends the Destroyer after the Warriors Three. He sends it after Sif. He sends it after innocent humans. But when he sends the fires of his wrath towards Darcy, something in Thor snaps loose and shifts into place and he knows, instantly, that there is only one way to end this. 

It becomes achingly clear what he must do. 

Like the rising of a sudden dawn, he knows what is about to happen and oddly enough, Thor is calm. There are worse ways to go but he will go on his own terms, at least. Death will not sneak up on him, or crawl slowly up his soul like it did to so many—no, he is going to run right into it and embrace it.

Dropping the meager Midgardians weapons and shielding, Thor walks out, unarmed, into the burning street, ignoring the startled cries of his friends. The Destroyer is ahead, and its name is its nature, proof by the fires burning and the road filled with broken glass and crumbling brick. 

“Brother,” Thor calls out in a clear voice and it does not shake. The sorrow and confusion he feels towards Loki briefly overpowers his fear for Darcy’s life. Thor cannot, for the life of him, understand how so much went so wrong. “Whatever I have done to wrong you, whatever I have done to lead you to do this, I am truly sorry. But these people are innocent. Taking their lives will gain you nothing.” He can hear Darcy screaming for him, can see her being held back by Sif whose face has gone bone white. Thor does not turn to look at them as he offers, “So, take mine and end this.”

There is a moment when the Destroyer appears to think and Thor wonders if Loki’s madness has reached its end.

But morality was a funny thing, like a slide; it begins with a push and ends with a fall and Loki is not done falling when the Destroyer turns back around and strikes a killing blow. Thor doesn’t feel it at first, feels nothing at all but the wind rushing around him as he flies through the air.

For a moment, he thinks he is flying with Mjolnir again.

And then he hits the ground and with that jarring jolt comes the pain. His vision turns white and he cannot hear anything at all. Deep inside, something is wrong, he knows it, can feel things rattling inside his chest that should be whole. 

“NO!” The shout cracks through the air like a whip and then at once Darcy is hovering over him, blocking out the sun. The golden light illuminates the edges of her raven-hair, glowing and glinting like a living thing, and Thor thinks she has never looked more beautiful. 

“Thor,” she sputters and reaches for his face but pulls back, as if she is frightened to touch him. “Oh god, Thor, please.”

Her voice trembles and tears well in her eyes and even as he lays there broken, staring up at her, he reaches out his hand to touch her face. 

There is no conscious thought attached to the action, he just wants to touch her for the first time and maybe the last time—to feel her skin, to remind himself that she is real, that it is _possible_ , after all. He doesn’t know what he expects from her in that moment, but when Darcy closes her eyes and leans into his palm, there is a distinct sensation of falling in his chest and in his stomach.

Something inside of Thor cracks open and warmth spreads, filling every inch of his body with a glowing, blinding light.

And his heart cannot bear it.

“You’re safe,” Thor says at last and he knows it is true and that it is, perhaps, the only thing in this world that matters to him.

His heart stutters and skips and breath is hard to find.

“No, no, no, not like this,” Darcy shakes her head desperately, a certain wildness around her eyes. “I need you to stay alive.”

Thor smiles at her.

“Do not fret. To die for you, Darcy Lewis, is not so terrible a thing.”

* * *

_Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor._

Death is an odd thing and Thor seriously questions his father’s idea of teaching a lesson if it requires his heir to die and then be resurrected. He understands the moral of it, knows deep down that something in him _has_ changed, but he also firmly decides that this is _not_ a method of teaching that he will continue to encourage when he becomes King of Asgard.

Not only is Thor resurrected, but his powers are fully restored as is his immortality. He is not aware of what takes place after he drifted into that space between realms, but he knows that when he awakes it was to a flash of white, hot energy sliding over his skin like electrified velvet. 

And to Darcy screaming in his ear.

“Oh, you _asshole!_ If you didn’t just die, I—I—I would _kill you_ right now!”

Her small hands shove uselessly at his newly armored chest and Thor cannot help but bellow out a deep laugh at her show of rage, which only makes her squawk even louder.

“Keep laughing, dude! Don’t make me go get the hammer.”

“Darcy,” Thor says in an affectionate tone and something about it catches her instant attention. She goes still and looks up at him and only then does Thor realize he has an arm wrapped around her waist. His eyes flick to hers and she bites her lip when he flexes his hand on the curve of her hip. Carefully, he lifts Mjolnir for her to examine. “ _This_ is a hammer.”

Her bright blue eyes fall to the mythical weapon and she lifts both brows, her mouth twisting in a secret laugh. 

“You know, I feel like this is probably some kind of inuendo and I just want you to know that I am totally here for it.”

* * *

“I do not know when I will be able to return.”

Thor hates this. He hates this and yet he cannot change it. Darcy and the human world are safe, his brother is not and Thor cannot bear to lose either.

“I know,” she nods and her voice is very small. The look on her face is enough to cleave his heart into two.

“Darcy—”

He does not know what he is going to say and he never finds out because Darcy pushes up onto her toes and kisses him. It is a chaste thing and Thor stops breathing. Darcy holds him there, motionless for a long moment, and then she withdraws, just slightly. Their lips come apart and she tilts her head the other way—so that their noses brush.

“You know what’s amazing about lightning?” Darcy asks in a voice like midnight. “It strikes and it lasts only for a split second. But in that moment, it forces you to soak in every ounce of power and brilliance as quickly as you can before it’s gone. It stuns you and stays with you for a long time afterwards. You’re my lightning, Thor.”

Thor just looks at her, frozen, drinking her in and letting this moment settle into his bones and he thinks he might burst.

And then he takes Darcy’s face in his hands, swoops down, and collides his mouth with hers. Fire erupts in his chest and Thor kisses her over and over, at a dizzying pace—harder, fiercer—sliding his hands down her neck, her shoulders, and then winding his arms around her waist with the strength of a god. 

Each time he pulls back, he returns to catch her mouth in a new, frantic, desperate and electrifying way that obliterates his thoughts. Darcy clings to his shoulders, as if she cannot balance upon her own two feet.

When they finally pull apart, Darcy gasps and breaks into giggles and shouts at the top of her lungs to no one in particular—

“I would just like to say that I called dibs on him first. Just to make that known.”

* * *

“Who is she?”

Thor turns and meets the knowing gaze of his mother. Even in her age, she is glowing with elegant beauty beyond comparison.

Frigga comes to a stop next to him and links her arm through his. She is now a head shorter than him and Thor cannot stop himself from planting a soft kiss to the top of her head when it comes into range. It is second nature for him now. 

She laughs and it sounds like home.

“Come now, you do not think I cannot recognize that look?” Thor stays quiet and his mother tilts her head back. Her gaze is a soft, hopeful thing. “Have you found love?”

“Yes,” Thor answers easily, because, to him, it is the easiest thing on the planet—loving Darcy. “I have.”

“Why do you mourn then?”

Ever sharp, Thor lifts both brows and spares his mother a glance. She knows him too well. Chest expanding, Thor manages to get out, “I mourn for Loki.” A deep shadow passes through Frigga’s eyes and Thor knows he is not alone in his grief. Still, he continues after clearing his throat, “And the bridge is gone.”

Meaning there is no way to return to Darcy.

He spent three-thousand years waiting for love to find him and once it does, it is ripped away. It has been a month since he left Midgard, since he returned home to his throne and his family and his way of life. It is everything he wanted, and yet…

His chest tightens.

“I was raised by witches, boy.” Frigga says suddenly, the words rolling out of her mouth in a small smirk and Thor slowly turns to his mother. “I know other ways to travel. If this human woman—”

“Darcy.”

She stops and smiles up at Thor, her eyes two happy half-moons. “What a lovely name.”

“She is lovely in every way.”

He knows the emotion bleeds into his voice and he cannot help it and Thor thinks his mother might cry from the brightness in her eyes.

“If you truly love her,” Frigga tells him. “I will help you find a way to her.”

* * *

In all truth, he should have expected her reaction.

Thor’s arrival is sudden and unannounced. Frigga’s secret pathway between worlds works and he is far too excited to see the woman he loves and to _tell_ her he loves her that he forgets that Darcy Lewis is not a woman to be trifled with.

It is a realization that comes too late. 

Thor appears as nothing more than a hulking shadow while Darcy is walking through the front door and she is so startled that she drops her coffee. It splatters magnificently on the floor and bottom half of her pants. She doesn’t realize it’s him and before Thor can get a word out, Darcy whips out her taser and nails him right in the balls.

When he comes to, Thor is flat on his back and laughing hysterically until there are tears running down his face and Darcy is screeching at him and hitting him and hugging him all at once. 

All is right in the world and Thor is sure he has never been happier than he is in this moment. 

_One day, my son, love will hit you so hard, it will knock you right off your feet._

His mother, it turns out, was right. 

* * *

“Does it bother you?” He asks softly.

Darcy’s head is lying on his bare chest and it tickles his skin when she shifts and lifts her head to look at him. Even after hours of making love, even after Darcy wrings him utterly dry, the God of Thunder cannot ignore the stirring in the pit of his belly when she stares at him the way she does now. Midnight hair is mussed from his hands, full lips swollen from his kisses, her skin petal soft under his hands. 

“What?”

For a long moment, Thor cannot remember what it is he was going to say, he is so distracted by her. Finally, it comes to him. “You knew me at first when I was still mortal. Now… I am not.”

“Hmm,” Darcy hums lowly. Her hands glide over his skin, fingers dipping into every ridge and plane of his belly before making the agonizingly slow journey back to his chest. She pokes his nipple twice and grins. “You feel the same to me.”

“Quit your teasing, wench,” Thor teases and jerks when she twists his nipple suddenly between her fingers and Darcy laughs. 

She pushes up and rises from her place at his side and Thor watches, entranced, as she slides a deliciously thick leg over his middle and straddles him naked as the day she was born. From her place atop him, Darcy peers down at his prone form like a goddess upon her throne. 

“You look the same,” she tells him, biting her lip, and then rolls her hips until her backside brushes against his swiftly hardening cock and Thor hisses. Full breasts shift and bounce as she moves again, in a teasing manner, and drags another noise from his throat. “You sound the same.”

Unable to stay still, Thor reaches up and snatches the vixen from her seat of power. Darcy squeaks but Thor just winds his arms around her back until those perfect breasts press against his chest in the most pleasing way. Strands of her hair catch on his short beard and Thor blows out a puff of hot air to try and get them to unlatch.

He goes still and he feels Darcy’s lips on his skin. She presses an open-mouthed kiss right over his heart. Lifting her gaze, Darcy’s eyes become very bright and Thor thinks that it looks something almost like devotion.

“This heart is what I fell in love with, Thor,” Darcy murmurs, something vulnerable and soft and sweet in her tone, “and that hasn’t changed.”

“You love me?” Thor blurts out, unable to hide the shock and awe in his voice. 

A laugh bubbles out of Darcy’s mouth and her answering grin is like the sun itself. “Yes, you dork. You’ve said it to me more times than I can count in the last three hours, so it’s my turn now: I love you.”

For the longest time it is all he can do to simply stare at her, Darcy Lewis, this utter gift, and it hits him with the physical impact of his mighty hammer. He staggers under it, mouth falling open, chest tightening, his heart lurching into his throat, and he is tumbling down, down, down—

When Thor falls in love, he does not fall gently.

**Author's Note:**

> GUYS. I WROTE FLUFF. I DIDN'T KNOW I COULD DO THAT. I AM AMAZED AT MYSELF.


End file.
